An Inquisition of misfits
by M1LoN
Summary: A story about the misfits of society, whom together will form the Inquisition that will change the world.


Okay, so first off. This is my very first fanfiction ever! I've always made stories in my head, but I never came around to writing them down. I've finally decided to give it a shot and this is my first attempt at it, so constructive criticism is more than welcome :D. Have fun reading and I hope you enjoy this first chapter. It's promising to become a loooong, loooooong fic ;)

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With every heartbeat she felt a piercing pain shoot through her head. She furrowed her brow and tried to stay as still as possible, afraid to evoke an even worse headache. After a few minutes, the pounding in her head seemed to quiet down and she dared to open her eyes. Her sight was blurry and she blinked a few times. Bright. It was too bright, even for the fact that she was in a dark room with no windows and only a few candles. But it was too bright, the black veil that always covered her eyes was missing. She panicked and tried to reach up to her face, but she was stopped by heavy chains around her wrist. In her panic, she started to yank on the chains and look around like a wild animal caught in a trap. And then all of the sudden, the room was filled with an eerie, pulsating green light coming from a mark on her hand. With each pulse a searching pain spread higher and higher up her arm. It spread from the palm of her left and to her fingers and up her arm. She clenched her hand tightly, trying to relieve some of the burning sensation. The pulse was reacting to her heartbeat, as it quickened the pulsating of the mark also quickened. She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. This wasn't like her, she always knew how to keep her cool in the worst of situations.

Ignoring the pain, she calmed down her heartbeat to a steady pace and eventually the pain stopped and the mark stopped glowing. She had no idea what was happening to her. She searched her memory for some clue as to where she was or how she got there. But no matter how hard she tried, she only found a big, black hole in her memory. The last thing she remembered was going to the conclave, but then… There was no memory of what happened until she woke up in this prison. At least she assumed it was a prison, being chained like she was and the iron bars along the walls that encaged smaller cells. This time, instead of trying to reach her hands to her face, she bowed down her head, searching for her hood and mask. She found the hood and the mask that covered her mouth still around her neck, but the actual mask that covered the rest of her face was still missing. She had either lost it, or they had taken it from her. She was hoping for the latter, at least that way she could easily get it back again.

Suddenly the door was kicked open and two women stepped into the room. The dark haired woman started to circle around her, while the other, a red haired woman closed the door and went to lean against the wall beside it, observing her.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now. The conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended is dead. Except for you." The dark haired woman began to speak

The conclave destroyed? Everyone, dead? That couldn't be right, how could she forget about that. She was there, she should've been dead as well. What had happened? And why couldn't she remember it?

Her captor, not satisfied with her silence, grabbed her hand and almost as if it was planned, the mark started pulsating again and a searing pain once again spread up her arm. "Explain this."

She couldn't. She had no memory of what had happened to her or the conclave. They were questioning her, but they probably knew more than she did. So she didn't answer. No need to waste her breath saying something that they probably wouldn't believe anyway.

"Speak!" The dark haired women yelled to her, an angry scowl contorting her face.

"I can't." She begrudgingly said to her captor while matching the scowl she saw. Her voice was hoarse and cracking from disuse. How long had she been unconscious?

"What do you mean you can't? You are the only one who survived the conclave and thus the only one who knows what happened."

The logic was sound, however, she couldn't remember a thing, no matter how hard she tried.

"Talk to me, you monster!"

And there it was, the thing she had been waiting for. Monster. Because that's what she was to these people, these humans. The horns, the sharp teeth, bright red eyes, tall posture and broad build. A monster. Humans, elves and dwarves too for that matter, always assumed she was a dumb, murdering oxmen without a conscience. To them you either were a brute that enjoyed killing and plundering for a living, or a mindless zealot that followed the Qun, which was equally, if not more, dangerous. And it had only gotten worse after the whole uprising in Kirkwall. The entirety of Thedas knows what transpired there, and that didn't make it any easier for her. At best, people would jump out of their way to avoid touching or angering her. When she would walk into a tavern, people would cower in a corner, too scared to even look at her. The braver children would throw rocks at her in the streets of the smaller villages. But at its worst, she would be denied a bed by an innkeeper, even if she offered to pay double and up front. Or a group of drunken men would want to 'beat her down a notch' or 'show the ox her place'. And they would never fight fair, it was never a one on one fight. She never provoked the men or threw the first punch, but they always came for her. One brave soul would throw the first punch and the others would just jump into the frenzy. She was by no means a bad fighter, but full out brawls did not fit her fighting style. This meant that she didn't always win and when she didn't, the men would leave her in a bloodied heap on the street, spitting on her while they sauntered off.

But probably worst of it all, is that she couldn't exactly blame them, she shared their opinion on the Qunari. Every Qunari she ever met was a murdering, bloodthirsty oxman. She never asked to be Qunari, she never wanted to be one, and so she hid what she was. She always wore a mouth mask to hide her sharp teeth, wore a face mask with veils in front of the holes for the eyes to hide her bright red eyes. She even shaped her horns to fit snugly to the sides of her head. They we're thinner than normal Qunari horns and they followed the curves of her head, along the temples and then they curved down around her ears, stopping at her jaw. This way they were easy to hide, but they still gave her some protection from a sideways blow to the head. To hide her horns she always wore a loose hood over a tight fitting hood, which were attached to each other. The tight fitting hood prevented the looser hood from falling off and from people getting a peek at her horns underneath the looser one. On top of that, she passed as a man. She was too tall and too broadly build to pass as a female human, so she bound her breasts and wore loose fitting clothes to hide her curves. She even had a stuffed belt around her waist to hide her narrow waist. And she almost never talked. She would fake a low voice when necessary, but most of the time she avoided talking all together. All this, just the hide what she was.

But she still didn't answer.

The scowling woman grabbed one of her horns and angled her head up towards the sealing. "Talk to me or Maker preserves me, I'll..."

"Cassandra! We need her." The redhead grabbed the dark haired woman, who was apparently called Cassandra, and pulled her away from the prisoner.

The redhead returned to stand in front of her and asked: "Do you remember what happened, how this all began?"

Scowling, she delved back into her mind trying once more to recover her lost memory. Her hand pulsed again and this time she could remember flashes of green, things chasing her and a woman made out of pure light. What was she seeing, is that what happened? Was this woman friendly or was she the cause of everything that had happened to her.

"Green, chased, running, a woman." That pretty much summed up all she knew anyway. It sounded silly when she said it like that, but it was all she could give them.

"A woman?" This seemed to spark the redheads' interest.

The woman called Cassandra softly grabbed the redhead's arm and took her to the door. "Go to the forward camp Leliana, I'll take her to the rift."

The redhead, now known as Leliana, nodded and left, leaving the door open behind her. There was a guard standing there, keeping watch.

Cassandra walked back and crouched down in front of the prisoner. "So you truly do not know what happened?"

The prisoner shook her head, refusing to talk, but shooting a questioning look at Cassandra.

"It will be easier to show you." the latter said while she started to undo the chains.

When she was finally free, she rubbed her wrists, trying to get the blood flowing again. These cuffs were too small for a Qunari.

"What do I call you, prisoner?"

It was a simple question, but she didn't want to answer. Her name revealed too much about her, things she didn't want to have to explain. But she had the feeling she was going to be stuck here for a while, and she might as well try to get a less antagonistic relationship with this woman.

"Keelah..."

"This is not a Qunari name, is it?"

"No, it is not." And she left it at that. Now the woman had something to call her, but she wasn't going to explain the whole story behind it.

She pulled up her mask over her mouth, then both her hoods over her head. But she was missing something.

"Mask?"

"Ah, right, it's right here in this chest with the rest of your belongings. You didn't have much on you when we found you though."

Cassandra walked to a chest near the door and rummaged through it, trying to find the mask. Keelah inched closer to see what was in the chest, to see what was left of her belongings. It wasn't much, her throwing knives and darts were there, together with some pouched that contained her potions and poisons. But her bow and arrows were gone, she had had it for so many years, made so many modifications to it herself so it would suit her needs better. Also, only one of her daggers was in the chest, the other one missing. Great, now she would have to buy or craft some new ones.

"It's this one, isn't it?" she heard Cassandra say. The woman pulled out a black mask in the shape of a face with only two veiled holes for her to see through. Other than that, the mask had no details. From the top of the mask, two hooks reached backwards so that they could be hooked around her horn to keep it in place. When she first got this mask, it was a simple ebony mask, but over the years she had started to dye it even darker. She found out that a mixture of deathroot paste and oil would slowly be absorbed by the wood if it was left to sit for a while. It had taken a few coats to make it as black as it was now.

She reached out to grab the mask and hooked it behind her horns, giving it a few tugs to make sure it was fastened properly. Finally, the familiar black hue that now covered her sight was back. She only ever took it off when she went to sleep, and even then only when she was certain she was alone. Wearing it to sleep didn't bother her, she had to sleep on her back anyway because her horns made it impossible for her to sleep on her side.

Keelah looked down at herself to check if her armor was still properly fastened. Giving some of the belts that held it together a few tugs to make sure nothing would fall off. She wore simple, loose fitting black armour. Her breeches had a few extra pouches on the outsides of her thighs. This is where she usually stored her darts, poisons and potions. On her belt there were a few small, empty loops where her throwing knives would be easily accessible, and two holsters were she used to store her knives. The left side of her armor had chainmail fastened over the leather. It ran from her hip all the way up to her shoulder and encircled her entire left arm. This gave her extra protection from other archers when she used her bow. Even the chainmail was made out of obsidian, to match the black of her armor. On her hands, she had a pair of leather gloves with obsidian claws glued on them. Those always came in handy when she would once again get caught up in a fist fight. Never enough to kill, but sharp enough to do some real damage.

Satisfied with the state of her armor, she looked back up at Cassandra who held up a piece of rope.

"I need to tie your hands again. The road to the rift will take us through Haven."

Keelah nodded, understanding what she meant. The people would blame her for what happened at the Conclave, it was in her best interest to look like she was at the mercy of her captors. Cassandra approached her and began to loosely tie Keelah's wrists. Keelah suddenly took a firm grip of Cassandra's wrist and gave her a piercing look. The latter glanced up at the towering Qunari with a suspicious look.

"Don't reveal what or who I am." Keelah said.

"Very well, what should I call you in public?"

"Prisoner should do."

"As you wish."

Keelah nodded and released Cassandra's wrist out of her iron grip. Satisfied with the answer, she allowed Cassandra to lead her through the corridor that led to a flight of stairs. The corridor was filled with boxes and sacks, probably full of provisions. They passed a room with a locked, barred door. When she looked through the bars, she could see a couple of fancy containers and a collection of books and scrolls. This must be some kind of vault for valuables of all kinds. After going up a flight of stairs, they entered the main hall of a chantry. Which she thought was odd. She had never been Andrastian but she found it weird for a house of faith to have a prison in its cellar. Cassandra led her through the main hall towards the grand, open doors that showed her a view of Haven. Outside, she could see the villagers scurrying about their business, soldiers on errands or standing at their post and merchants trying to sell their wares. And… A gigantic green hole in the sky.


End file.
